A Documentary about Nashville's Maverick songwriter/producer, 'Cowboy' Jack Clement
daydreaming w/ Bob Arnold
from Song of Hiawatha
And the Jossakeeds, the Prophets,
The Wabenos, the Magicians,
And the Medicine-men, the Medas,
Painted upon bark and deer-skin
Figures for the songs they chanted,
For each song a separate symbol,
Figures mystical and awful,
Figures strange and brightly colored;
And each figure had its meaning,
Each some magic song suggested.
_______________________
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
So Light You Were
I Would Have Carried You
So light you were
I would have carried you,
hacked from the ice
a bridge,
you in my arms,
from February into April.
And crossed
above the snow
banked narrowing
the streets, this winter's
tired citizens, the erlking
and his foundling crossing.
Light as you were
I would have carried you
from the room
of your death back
to our room,
climbed back,
crawled up the stairs
to our bed.
From February into
April, hid in your arms
in the woods
frantic please.
Light as we were.
And could be carried out
on a float of last year's
leaves
and bracken thaw
rinsing the tide pools.
So light you were.
I would have carried you
from February
into April.
___________________________
Deborah Digges
Trapeze
Knopf, 2004
Heartbeat
Hold me
too
close to
tell
whose is
whose.
Echo
A lone
voice
in the
right
empty space
makes
its own
best
company.
Exposure
What you're
eager to
believe may
say more
about you
than you'd
be eager
to admit.
Ulysses
Even frailer,
bound for failure
die at sea or home
I roam.
________________________________
Robert M. West
A Clear Eye
Broadstone Books, 2026
Musiciens: Matano Juma ; Yasseen Mohamed ; Zuhura Swaleh ; Ali Mkali ; Zein l’Abdin ; Maulidi Juma ; Zuhura & Zein Musical Part ; Ahmed bin Brek
Production exécutive / éditeur / transferts / restauration / mastering : Werner Graebner
Enregistrements : Zanzibar (2004) ; Dubaï (2005)
Prise de son : Werner Graebner
Writer and veteran Tim O'Brien reflects on the moral weight of the Vietnam War’s most infamous atrocity. Official website: https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/americanexpe... | #AmericanExperiencePBS In this interview from the American Experience archives, novelist and Vietnam War veteran Tim O'Brien, author of "The Things They Carried," reflects on the legacy of the 1968 My Lai massacre, in which U.S. soldiers killed hundreds of unarmed Vietnamese civilians. O’Brien discusses how the massacre shaped Americans’ understanding of the war, the moral and psychological toll on the soldiers involved, and the challenges of confronting painful truths about the past. Drawing on his experience as both a veteran and a writer, O’Brien explores how memory, storytelling, and accountability shape the way societies remember war. His reflections illuminate the broader context of the conflict and the lasting impact of My Lai on American public life. O’Brien spoke to American Experience on November 20, 2009. This interview was conducted for our 2015 documentary MY LAI and is being published as part of our series spotlighting remarkable archival conversations with historians, journalists, eyewitnesses, and other primary sources whose insights deepen our understanding of the past. This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
Day on Fire
The door shined in fiery daylight
but the braids of the women there
held still
one of them leaned over the waters on the cauldron
and on a piece of porcelain
a painted bird had worn itself out with singing.
The messenger was seen to come in
with a letter and a golden loaf in his hands
he spoke
then it was dead silence
and the whole garden gave up its scent.
Landscape with Two Laborers
The countyside was calm
a girl was washing her unblemished leg
and the hours
etched themselves into the cloth they faded
attacking the damask flowers.
The pages of a schoolbook
had been carried off by the wind
up above the eglantines
and down the length of the path
to ditches filled with clever beasts
to embankments covered in those herbs
favored for soothing teas
two laborers took their time
telling each other
the secrets of working with wood.
The Notice
The child pushing along the ring of a barrel
as his makeshift hoop
runs alone and shouts
but to the one who has just spelled out
beneath the N and the eagle of Empire
the draft notice
the old man says simply
in the blazing sun
while drinking a foamy pear cider:
"the next century will be worse"
though lovers go by singing.
Edge of the Hearth
The outbuildings with no real use
are left to the rains
a peasant woman
has an edge of the black hearth
for a seat
the evening turns
in swirls of her breath
the wind in the hollow tree
why beings and things
she thinks
and not nothing
_______________________________
Jean Follain
Earthly
The Song Cave 2025
translated by Andrew Seguin